I wish this was made up...

Aha. As she lay prone on a hill, watching the ogres below patrol their own grounds, Temma could tell this would be a challenging job. If she was to secure the Stonewrought Dam, prevent the Wetlands from flooding, and make a lot of money in the process, she had to liberate a crystal from one of these ogres... for whatever reason the dwarf back at the dam was going to use it for.

Biting into an apple, and refreshing her dry throat with a much-needed drink, she surveyed the patrols. Her gun, a hunter's rifle, lay next to her, ready to shoot to kill. She turned the sound down on her buzzbox; a group of excitable gnomes were chatting about recent findings in their former city, and focused.

Deep breaths. Ogres were strong, and weren't to be taken lightly. These ones she had battled before, wetting her blade with their blood. She'd even killed a leader of theirs with a Dwarf, but that had been a challenge she and Rensvind had only just succeeded in.

One of the ogres seemed displeased with the rest. They had been huddling around a campfire, biting into the body of a recently slaughtered boar. The offended ogre had apparently taken too big of a chunk, and was now being chastisted. He threw his thick arms up into the air, and stomped off, anger radiating in his face.

Temma smiled, squinted, and aimed down the sight of her rifle. It wasn't very accurate, very long range, or even very powerful, but it'd hopefully wound the ogre enough for it to be stumbling by the time it reached her.

She took one more look around the landscape, trying to spot any nearby ogres she may have missed. The green plains of Loch Modan and the rocky mountains that surrounded it were all that was visible. It was now or never.

Click. A low, pathetic rumble came from the gun. The pellet began its frighteningly quick flight, The raised voices of joyous ogres tucking into their makeshift Sunday lunch were enough to cloud the shot, and by the time the projectile buried itself in the ogre's leg, the creature was too far away to flee.

Temma grimaced. It had been a fine shot. She was getting pretty good at this business, but she missed the feel of a bow in her hand, and the skill of pulling back a string just enough to land a shot at a target fifty yards away. Nostalgia did not have time to annoyingly manifest itself though, as the ogre was already limping up the hill-side.

Deciding that finesse was not the way to go in this battle - it took two to tango - Temma began to ran down in a counter-charge far swifter than the run that had caused it. The ogre, hefting a hammer that looked like it had gotten bored of carving in skulls long ago, tried to defend himself against Temma's assault, but ended up leaving his impressive belly open for a meaty stab.

There was little choice but to smile as Temma withdrew the bloodied weapon, its blade scraping against the bones inside the ogre's soon lifeless body. It looked at her glumly, its hammer falling from its previously tight grasp. Temma swiped.

As the ogre fell to the earth, he started to slide down the hill. Temma followed its descent with a slower, in control version of her own. She reached into the bag that had been strapped to its massive loincloth, and withdrew a measly few copper, and a dull white crystal, unassuming in its suddenly important existence.


'So, you think they've already planted the bomb?' asked Temma.

The dwarf looked at her through his goggles. He scratched his palm. 'Yes, that's right.'

'And it could go off at any moment?' Temma was beginning to feel increasingly unsafe on the Dam. She was very, very alert for any sounds of explosions.

'That's right, too,' replied the dwarf. He handed a small glass vial over, its insides laden with dark grey dust. The crystal was somewhere inside it. 'And here's what it'll take to defuse.'

Temma allowed the dwarf to drop the mixture into her hands. She swallowed. 'And it's at the base of the dam, yeah?'


'All the way down there?'

'That's what I said.'

'I better get defusing it, then.'

'Yes. You better.' The dwarf too, looked quite worried.

Temma saluted, and without saying another word, leapt off the side of the dam. She could feel the surprised gaze of the dwarf on her as she did it. As she passed the stone heads of the various dwarven kings (she assumed) she suddenly realized her mistake. But it was too late. Damn it, how could she be s- SPLODGE.


It wasn't until a Dwarven Paladin, a friend on the buzzbox had reached her, swearing all the while, that Temma's body was revived. She was very, very sheepish about it. But it had all seemed so logical. It was, after all, sort of a base of the dam. It was, after all, a job that had its fair share of death-defying leaps anyway. Just this one had more emphasis on the "death" then "defying."

No matter. All her limbs were in working order. She could still think clearly, and what she was thinking right now was "...if that dam blows up right now, I'm going to be crushed."

When she did eventually find the bomb, on the other side of the dam, it was still of great relief to her and the dwarven people. But she'd never tell anyone that she saved the Stonewrought Dam, because the conversation would invariably feature that most horrid of questions, "How?"

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